


You Can’t Take The Sky From Me

by swear-like-a-hare (TheEyeofTheOncomingStorm)



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: Gen, Post-"Mattimeo", Slavery, discussion of slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 21:53:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14578440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEyeofTheOncomingStorm/pseuds/swear-like-a-hare
Summary: If you haven't read ScrivenerSavannah's "A Question of Freedom", go and do that, because this story picks up right where that one leaves off pretty much.





	You Can’t Take The Sky From Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Question of Freedom](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14163153) by [ScrivenerSavannah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrivenerSavannah/pseuds/ScrivenerSavannah). 



While they ate breakfast that morning, Sister May, Constance, Matthias, Orlando, and Abbot Mordalfus talked.

“I swear, I’ve never seen the like.” Sister May said. She picked up a scone from the passing serving cart, and spread it with jam and soft white cheese as she spoke. “Choosing to sleep in a pile on the floor when there are perfectly good beds in the room.”

“They seem no worse for it.” Matthias took a quick glance across the room at the young ones. He noticed a young squirrel watching him back, who quickly turned her attention to her own plate, as if she was afraid she’d get scolded for staring. Matthias turned back to talk to Sister May. “It’s probably how they’re used to sleeping in those underground tunnels. I didn’t see any proper living quarters there. Though, I didn’t see much of anything. Everything happened so quickly.”

“We know so little of what happened there, Sister May.” Constance joined in. “So many things are different for them, and they’re still so unfamiliar with life here at the abbey. And they’re easily frightened. Even the older ones, though they hide it better. I passed by one of them the other day on the lawn, and they must not have heard me, because when that poor otter turned and saw me, he must have jumped three feet in the air. It might have been funny, if he hadn’t been so scared.”

“I think we badgers remind them of the wearet.” Orlando mentioned, his voice low. “He was one of the slavedrivers, the one that Matthias faced. I’ve never seen another creature so huge! And I don’t think they had, either, before we came. I’ve scared a few of them m’self when I haven’t been careful.”

“Goodness knows what all those poor creatures have been through.” Constance shook her head sadly. “So they don’t want to sleep in their beds. In spring and summer, even in autumn when the weather’s nice enough, I hardly ever even sleep in the abbey.”

“Constance is right.” Abbot Mordalfus agreed. “As long as they’re sleeping, does it matter where they are?”

May hmphed in indigation, but said no more on the matter. Instead, she rose and headed over to the dibbun’s table, to where baby Rollo had spilled oatmeal down the front of his smock for the second time that morning. Then the conversation turned to other things, like the maintenance of the abbey, and the upcoming harvest season.

Breakfast ended, and creatures gradually left to attend to their chores. Matthias was about to rise and leave himself, when he noticed the young female squirrel, the one called Elmkirk, approach the table where he was seated. 

"Are you Matthias, or Martin?” She asked boldly.

Several of the other creatures at the table let out bemused chuckles, but not Matthias. He just looked at her curiously, and answered. “I am Matthias. Why did you ask if I was Martin?”

She answered plainly. “Because you both look so much alike, it’s hard to tell the two of you apart.”

More chuckles, and comments of agreement. Matthias continued to ignore them. “And why are you looking for Martin?”

Elmkirk hesitated at first, not wanting to say anything that would get her in trouble. Finally, she said, “I spoke to him yesterday. He said that he’d always be around if I needed to talk. Do you know where I can find him?”

This time, nobeast dared to laugh. Elmkirk noticed the surprised, serious expressions on their faces and she was afraid she’d said something wrong, when Matthias rose from the table and beckoned to the young squirrel. "Follow me. I will take you to Martin.”

Elmkirk followed him to the alcove between Great Hall and Cavern Hole. In the short span of time she had been living at the abbey, she hadn’t paid much attention to the walls. Having lived in the tunnels in the empire on Malkariss for so long, she’d gotten used to one wall looking the same as another. She stared in shock at the image of Martin, the mouse that she’d spoken to only the night before. 

Matthias explained. “Martin was a warrior who help to found this abbey many, many seasons ago, too many to count. He’s the guiding spirit of Redwall.”

“B-but- but-” Elmkirk spluttered. “I _spoke_ to him! He spoke to _me_! He was there!”

“As well he might be.” Matthias smiled at her. “Only a handful of creatures have seen or heard him speak to them, and then only through dreams. Fewer still have actually spoken _with_ him.”

Elmkirk didn’t quite know what to feel. However, there was a distinct sense of loss. How could a beast, who felt so alive, have lived and died so many seasons ago?

“Have you ever spoken to him?” She asked, still staring at the tapestry. 

Matthias nodded. “Often, as a young beast. But he’s never spoken back. I’ve never seen him, except here on the tapestry, and in dreams too, but when only when I needed him most. That must be why he appeared to you.”

Elmkirk’s eyes dropped to look at the sword pictured in the tapestry. She recognized it as the same one that Matthias had used to free them, the one that cut the chains. She remembered how it felt, using those same chains that bound her paws to kill the one she was made to slave for, Malkariss. 

Matthias watched the young squirrel as she stood, deep in thought. She unconsciously rubbed her paws where the manacles had rubbed off the fur. He felt immense pity for the young creatures. That so many young ones had been robbed of a normal childhood, taken from their homes and families. He’d tried to keep his silence as long as possible, but eventually, his curiosity won out. 

“You said that Martin told you that he’d be around if you needed to talk. Is there something bothering you?” He smiled at her. “I’m not Martin, but as you said, we are very similar.”

Elmkirk hesitated. Martin had been right. Matthias did not understand what it meant to be a slave. To be freed, the desire for revenge on your slaver. The sense of loss, and the anger and fear that constantly lurked in the back of her mind.

Ultimately, though, the decision was made for her. Constance entered the hall, looking for the mouse. “Ah, Matthias, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

Elmkirk, taken by surprise at the badger’s sudden appearance, dashed up the stairs into Great Hall and out the doors on the other side without a second thought. Constance stood watching the departing figure, looking somewhat abashed. “Poor creature. I suppose she didn’t hear me coming.”

“Nor did I.” Matthias said. “They’ll be fine though. They just need time. Time and patience.”

* * *

After Matthias and Constance had left the abbey, Elmkirk snuck back in to get another glimpse of the tapestry. She knew that it was only a bit of cloth, but there was a presence there, familiar, safe. Like she had felt that night, talking to Martin.

She didn’t know how long she had stood there, studying the figure of the mouse warrior, when she heard someone approaching. She turned to see Mattimeo walking up to her. Ever since they had been freed, all the slaves had gotten to know all the young ones who had been taken Redwall. Out of all the creatures that had returned from the southlands, Mattimeo had been the most understanding. He nodded toward the tapestry, and spoke quietly. 

“It’s almost as if he can see us.”

Elmkirk nodded her agreement, turning back to the tapestry. “Did you ever talk to Martin?”

“Always. Whenever I had a problem, or I had a fight with my parents, or even when I was bored, I would talk to Martin. I would pretend that he’d talk back to me, telling me the right thing to do, helping me. It was always easier talking to Martin than it was to my father. But I heard you actually spoke with him. What was he like?”

“He was a lot like your father. Not just how he looked. Their manner was similar, but still different. I can’t explain it.” Elmkirk turned to look at Mattimeo more closely. “Actually, you’re a lot like him too.”

“Well, I have more in common with him now, I suppose.” Mattimeo said wryly. “We’ve both been taken away from our homes to be used as slaves.”

They stood there for a few moments in silence, looking at Martin. She’d tried to remember everything that Martin had said, about sleep and peace, home and freedom and family. About friends he’d lost, creatures he’d known, former slaves. But mostly about anger. Oh, the anger. An all-consuming roiling torrent in the back of her mind that was always there, like a constant companion.

Elmkirk spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mattimeo… are you angry? About what happened? Being taken to become a slave?”

He answered in a clear, firm, quiet voice. “Oh, yes. But not just that. I’m angry that the world is the way it is, that creatures get taken as slaves at all. I’m angry because that I couldn’t prevent my friends from being taken, that the only reason they were in danger was because of me, and because of my father, and things that happened long before I was born. I expect you’re angry, too. You have more of a right to be.”

She clenched her teeth. “Yes. I’m-”

She stopped herself short. There was nowhere for her to lay her anger. All the beasts she’d been angry at were dead. They’d gotten what they deserved. She was free and safe, so were her fellow slaves. Slagar and Malkariss would never again take another young woodlander from their home. What was there to be angry at? But yet, all that was left was anger.

“Oh, I don’t know what I’m angry for anymore!” She said, and crossed her arms petulantly. “All I know is that I am angry. When I think about all that happened to us. Aye, and creatures like us! How many died at the end of a whip? Worked too hard and fed too little, how many of us died for the grand plan of some mad vermin?!” 

Her voice echoed into the adjoining rooms. She blushed deeply, from the tips of her ears to the end of her brushy tail, which she curled over her head to try and hide her embarrassment.

Mattimeo placed a comforting paw on her shoulder, and waited to speak until the last echos had died away. “I’m sorry, Elmkirk. I’m sorry that you had to go through that. I’m sorry for any creature that has to go through things like that. Maybe it’s good that you don’t have anyone to blame for your anger. Slagar was angry at the creatures at Redwall and my father for what happened to him, and his rage and desire for revenge consumed him! He was a clever fox, but he was driven completely mad. He even believed the lies he made up to justify his actions.”

Elmkirk bit her lip nervously. That was something she had never considered. She’d only ever seen Slagar as he was. Violent, cruel, vindictive. She’d never given a thought to what could have made him that way. Perhaps that was what Martin had meant, about not letting anger consume you. But even he said that he used his anger to do something about it. Isn’t that what Mattimeo said Slagar did too? 

She had questions she’d wanted to ask Martin. He was gone, apparently, and she’d been interrupted earlier when she’d tried to ask Matthias. But Mattimeo seemed to know a great deal about the Martin. Perhaps he could answer her.

“Martin had said that his quest for vengeance had nearly consumed him, too.” Elmkirk said. “And that it still cost him dearly. What did he mean by that?”

Mattimeo, like every young Redwaller, knew the story of how Martin first became a warrior, and gave Elmkirk an abbreviated version. “He lost his friend, a young mousemaid called Rose. They cared for each other very deeply, and they fought, side by side, to free her brother and others from slavery to the tyrant Badrang. But during the battle, Rose was injured, and she died, and so did many others. Some of them close friends of his. Martin was so heartbroken that he never spoke of any of them, or of anything that happened there ever again.”

“Martin told me he’d been a slave too.” Elmkirk added. “I thought he was your father Matthias at first, but he knew things that only another slave could understand. About freedom, about anger. About how he used his anger to build a home. He meant Redwall abbey, didn’t he?” 

“I suppose so.” Mattimeo mused. “Redwall Abbey is the only thing we knew that he helped to build. But how could he use anger to build the abbey?”

Elmkirk shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

They were silent for a few more moments, before Mattimeo spoke up again. “Well, we’ll have all winter to ponder questions like that one. I was on my way to help pick apples. Would you like to help?”

The squirrel took one last glance at the mouse warrior, then followed Mattimeo out to the orchard. At least, if she were helping in the orchard, she wouldn’t be asked to help scrub pots and pans in the kitchens again.

* * *

Elmkirk opened the well-greased dormitory window with practiced ease, and climbed down to the lawn, turned pale green from the heat of the autumn sun. It felt dry and prickly underpaw, but the squirrel hardly noticed as she made her way to the check the gates of Redwall. 

She had been living there for nearly half a season now. She’d taken Martin’s advice, and decided not to leave the abbey until the spring. He was right, trudging through the cold and snow sounded unpleasant, especially when she had no idea where she was going, or how to get there. No, living at the abbey sounded much better my comparison. At least here, she was assured of a warm bed to sleep in. Most nights anyway. There were still some nights that seemed harder than others, and all the young ones who had once been slaves ended up sleeping in a pile together again. Much to the chagrin of Sister May.

And there was also friendship. Elmkirk marveled at the fact that friendship came naturally to the Redwallers, as easy as breathing it seemed sometimes, and several of them took a personal interest in the newcomers. Especially all the young ones who’d been taken from the abbey. Mattimeo had been the first make friends with them all, along with Tess and Auma and Sam. Even that Cynthia Bankvole. They hadn’t had to slave for Malkariss the way the others had, but they knew how they had been treated, and tried to help the newcomers, in their own way.

Elmkirk was used to life at the abbey now, at least the rhythm of it. She had established a routine. She knew how and when to sneak out of the dormitories without getting caught. Well, once, by Martin, but she reasoned that it didn’t really count. It would be nearly impossible to avoid him, since he was supposedly the very spirit of Redwall. 

After she was sure that everyone else was asleep and that the badgers weren’t around, she’d sneak into the kitchens, and grab a scone that had been baked for the next morning’s breakfast, still warm from the oven. Or a leftover roll from dinner, or some other small thing that was quick to paw. She’d eat it on her way around the abbey walls to the visit the gates. First the three little wicker ones to the north, west, and south, then the large heavy gate that facing east that lead out onto the path.

The gates and their accompanying locks, which were really just stout beams with pegs that secured them to the braces, were a constant reminder that she wasn’t a prisoner here. She could open it herself, if she had a mind to. The idea that she could leave, by herself, that she didn’t owe anything to anyone, was comforting.

Giving the big gate a final pat, she started walking through the grounds of the abbey. No other creature was about. She could do as she pleased, without supervision. Without judgement. The elation that she never ceased to feel at this thought caused a grin to spread across her face. She began to jog, then run, just for the fun of it. When was the last time before she came to Redwall that she was allowed to anything just for fun? Far longer ago than she could even remember.

Elmkirk ran towards the orchard, enjoying the sensation of cool, prickly grass under her paws. The trees were organized in even rows, and for a creature who was used to working in caves underground with little to no light, it was easy to navigate in the pale cast of the moon, even while running. She gazed up through gaps in the branches at the stars, and did not notice the old badgermum standing there, and ran right into her. Letting out a squeak of shock, Elmkirk collapsed backward onto the ground, her eyes wide in fright.

Constance was taken by surprise as well. She’d thought she heard somebeast running about the orchard, and had not gone three paces, when the young squirrel had appeared. When Constance spoke, her words sounded harsh even in her own ears. 

“What are you doing out here?”

She saw the fear flash in the young creatures eyes, and remembered what Orlando had said sometime back about the wearret. When the squirrel didn’t answer or try to get up, Constance knelt in front of the squirrel a short distance away, so that she was not looming over her, and spoke as softly as she could. “You ought to still be in bed, young miss.”

Elmkirk’s breath quickened, still speechless with terror. Of course, the first time that she was caught out of bed by any creature besides Martin, it would be the badger. She should have stayed in bed, she thought. Even Martin had said that badger mothers were strict, and that even he, a mighty warrior, had had a sound lashing from one. 

Receiving only fearful stares in answer, Constance tried a different tack. She sat in the grass, and folded her paws in her lap, trying to make herself look as non-threatening as possible. When she thought that was accomplished, she asked another question. “Elmkirk - it is Elmkirk, isn’t it? Why aren’t you in bed? Or at least in the dormitory?”

Elmkirk mouth was dry, and she had to try several times before she could answer properly. “I- I- I was- and the gate… and- and-”

“And?” Constance prompted.

Elmkirk started breathing a little more deeply, sensing that the badger wasn’t going to punish her right away. Maybe she could escape, if she kept her talking for long enough. Badgers were known to be strong, but they were not very fast creatures. 

“And… I… I wanted to… see the sky.” Elmkirk waited anxiously.

Constance took a moment to consider the young squirrel’s words. She herself felt a connection to the sky. Over the many seasons she’d lived at the abbey, the countless nights she’d fallen asleep in the orchard, watching the sky turn above her. The openness, the fresh air, the quiet calm of the night after every other creature was seen safely to bed. All these things had been denied to these slaves for many, many seasons. How could she take another sky away from them?

“Is that all?” Constance asked. “You wanted to see the sky?”

Elmkirk didn’t answer. She was still unsure of the badger. A cold breeze blew through the orchard, making her shiver. Constance noticed, and nodded back the way she had come.

“Let’s continue this discussion near the fire.” She said, rising. “It’s only going to get colder.” She offered a paw to help Elmkirk get back on her feet, and regretted it when she saw the squirrel wince. However, after an initial hesitation, she allowed herself to be helped up, and followed the badgermum to where she had built a fire at the edge of the orchard. Elmkirk took a seat in the grass some distance away from the badger, but still close enough to the fire the enjoy it’s warmth.

“Now.” Constance said. “You were saying something about the sky? You picked a nice night. It’s nearly a full moon tonight.”

Elmkirk said nothing at first, and Constance encouraged her.  “Go on. You’re not in any trouble. Why did you want to see the sky?”

Elmkirk hesitated another moment, and when she spoke, her voice was tense and low. “I… While I was a slave, I couldn’t see the sky. We were underground. The first night I really remember seeing the sky was the day we were freed. I… I just like seeing the sky, the stars. It reminds me that I’m not a slave anymore.”

Elmkirk’s body tensed as the badger reached for a stick, but relaxed slightly as she watched Constance use it to stir the fire. Neither said anything for sometime.

“Are you happy here, Elmkirk?”

She looked up sharply at the badger. The question had caught her by surprise. Happy? She wasn’t being beaten, blinded, or starved. She wasn’t forced to work until her skin on her paws split and bled. And in her free time, which had been a foreign concept to her for some while, she could more or less do as she pleased as long as she wasn’t causing trouble. She lived in the company of friends, and fell asleep at night, only being awakened occasionally with a nightmare, and not a sharp prod of a spear-butt. Why shouldn’t she be happy?

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly. “I suppose I am.”

“Supposing isn’t the same as knowing.” Constance replied. “Tell me, is there somewhere else you would rather be? Somewhere else you feel you belong?”

Elmkirk shrugged. She wasn’t ready to talk about her plans to leave, especially the badger. Though, she didn’t seem as terrible now. “Here’s as good as anywhere else. At least for the winter.”

“And after winter?” Constance pressed, and Elmkirk cursed herself for saying that. 

She tried to dismiss her comment by playing dumb. She shrugged again. “After winter follows spring.”

“As ever it has. Spring is a good time for new beginnings, isn’t it?” Constance smiled at her knowingly. She’d raised a fair few young ones in her time, and generally had a good sense of what kind of creatures they’d grow up to be. “Life in the woodlands springs anew, migrating birds return to their ancestral homes, travelers begin again their wandering… I sense in you a desire to travel. Am I right?”

“No.” Elmkirk said quickly, then after a look from the badger, she added reluctantly, “Maybe.”

“Good.” Constance nodded approvingly. “Travel while you’re young. Learn as much as you can. And always know that our gates are open to all peaceful travelers and returning friends. Do you have any ideas about where you want to go?”

Elmkirk was taken aback. She’d expected at least a lecture, or at worse, a threat to lock her up, to keep her here at Redwall forever. Then Martin’s words came back to her.

_“Should you wish to leave, should you decide that your path splits from ours, not a creature here would stop you from walking out those gates. They would only offer supplies and a helping hand upon your way, and sincere wishes for you to return.”_

Elmkirk decided to trust Martin’s words. Taking a deep breath, she answered Constance’s question openly and honestly. “No, I don’t. I don’t know very much about Mossflower. Or anywhere for that matter. In fact, I think I have a lot to learn before I leave in the spring.”

Constance gave her a warm, broad smile. “In that case, I believe that we have a lot to teach.”

**Author's Note:**

> The character Elmkirk belongs to ScrivenerSavannah. Everyone else belongs to Brian Jacques.


End file.
